


A Storm Across Two Worlds

by rangikulovesyou



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, IshiHime - Freeform, ptsd mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25276582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangikulovesyou/pseuds/rangikulovesyou
Summary: Orihime decides to stay at Uryuu's apartment during a typhoon. At first, he assumes that it's meaningless, but he eventually wonders if it's meant to be something more.One year post-TYBW, mostly fluff, a little angst. Minor TYBW spoilers (but very few.) Mentions of violence and trauma.
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Ishida Uryuu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a mostly-sappy Ishihime fic!!  
> A quick note: Although it’s not completely clear from the translation, the “We Do Knot Always Love You” novel seems to state that Orihime doesn’t go to college after graduating high school, partly because her relative who had been supporting her stopped doing so. The original draft of this assumed Uryu had been living with his dad in high school and had moved out for college, but that apparently might not be canon. At any rate, Uryu has moved a little further away from the others.  
> Also, I thoroughly enjoyed writing Orihime wearing her pajamas in public - a very atypical sight in Japan; I lived there for 3 years and saw it probably twice on adults. But Orihime would totally hella do it if she was on her way to a slumber party, and that is why we love her.

The news hadn’t shut up about the oncoming typhoon for hours. Uryuu watched disinterestedly for a few seconds before returning to unpacking his meager groceries. His new apartment close to campus was small and only had a half-size fridge, so he rarely bothered getting much of anything on each grocery run.

He had less than five days until the new semester started, and he’d barely had time to see the others in months. Ichigo was at a different university, Chad was busy boxing, and Orihime had started working full-time. Although Orihime lived the closest to him, they had only called and texted each other sporadically, usually about crafts or some new bread idea she had.

He pulled a cheap loaf of bread out of one of his shopping bags, and with a pang of guilt, he realized he had barely texted her recently. He had been busy with exams in the previous weeks.

High school suddenly felt so much easier than college. Even with the struggles they had faced, having her around had made it easier.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he finished putting groceries away before pulling it out. When he saw the text, he excitedly thumbed through it.

_Hi Ishida-kun! I’m really sorry to bother you about this, but could I maybe sleep on your folding couch-thing tonight? My landlord’s repairs to my apartment aren’t done, and with the typhoon coming through, I’m not sure I wanna sleep at my place tonight. Tatsuki’s out of town. I’m so sorry to bother you, but we can make it a craft night and I can even bring dinner!! But if it’s too much of a bother just say so!!_

He reread the message twice, trying to wrap his head around it. Orihime was asking to stay at his apartment. _His_ apartment.

But of course he was only her last resort because Tatsuki was out of town. And she knew he had a couch; he had texted her a photo of the pillows he had sewn for it.

Then again, why wasn’t she staying with Ichigo? Were they not a thing yet?

He immediately typed back: _That’s totally fine. Don’t worry about bringing anything since I just got groceries. The news was saying public transit will shut down at 8 p.m., so you should try to get here before that._

He tempered his emotions as he hit send. Surely she would find someplace else to stay instead. It was barely 3 p.m.; she still had plenty of time. 

The reply came a few minutes later, though: _Wow, thanks for getting back to me so fast! We’re closing at 5 p.m., so I should still be able to make it there by 8. I’m going back off break now, so I’ll just text you when I’m on my way!_

She ended the message with some excited-looking emoji he didn’t recognize, and he couldn’t help but smile. She was still the same as ever, even six months after graduation.

He quickly set about cleaning his apartment, taking care to pick up straw wrappers and other miscellaneous garbage that had accumulated during first semester. As much as he usually prided himself on being clean and tidy, college had started to bring out the worst in him.

\------------------------------------------

Shortly after 7, she texted him to say she was on her way. It had started to rain slightly outside, and he wondered if she would actually make it before the weather got bad. The typhoon wasn’t forecast to be very destructive, but it was large, and would keep public transit shut down for at least 12 hours.

He showered and finished tidying up, hoping his sparsely-decorated studio apartment would work well enough for her. His futon was up in a tiny loft, and the ladder leading to it leaned against the closet. It was a typical college apartment, by Japanese standards, but it didn’t offer much in terms of privacy. At least it had a decent bathtub and shower.

He had just finished putting on a decent-looking button-down shirt when the doorbell rang, and he ran to the front door. Orihime stood outside with a pink umbrella over her shoulder, with a duffel bag in one arm and a paper bag in the opposite hand. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, with a headband keeping her hair out of her face. The bunny-printed pajama pants she wore were a gift from Rukia, but the baggy pink t-shirt she wore looked perfectly ordinary.

He couldn't remember the last time he had seen someone wear pajama pants for a quick run to the convenience store, let alone to take public transportation for at least 20 minutes. She looked like she was ready for a girls’ sleepover, he thought as he waved her inside. “Hey, glad you made it,” he said.

“Thank you so much! And I’m so sorry to ask so last-minute!” she said, waving the paper bag at him. “I brought lots of bread!”

His heart seemed to glow as he took it from her. “I told you not to bring anything,” he said gently.

She beamed up at him as she took off her shoes. “But we had leftovers! And we’re not reopening until tomorrow afternoon, and there certainly wasn’t any time to run them to anyone else.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense then.” He set the bag on the tiny counter and waved at the couch. “Welcome to my humble home for the year… and probably next year, and the year after.”

She took three steps down the short front hallway and looked around the tiny room. The kitchenette along one wall had barely a foot and a half of counter space, and the coffee table in front of the armless couch was barely two feet deep. The glass doors leading out to the balcony were normal-sized, but they seemed to overwhelm the rest of the tiny space.

She looked up and around, eyes lingering on the closet doors for a second before asking: “You don’t have a bedroom?”

“The loft is fine. It’s actually pretty comfy, and the sun doesn’t get in my eyes if I decide to sleep in on the weekends.”

She glanced down at her duffel bag. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude when there’s not much space…”

“Don’t worry about it! I know the couch probably looks smaller in person than in the photos I sent, but it’s comfy. You could...” He stopped and pushed his glasses up, glancing away. “You could take the bed, and I’ll take the couch. That’s more--”

“No way!” She waved her hands. “That’s not necessary! I’m shorter than you, so I’ll be more comfortable on the couch! I can spread out better!”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel in a couple hours.”

“Fine!” Her lips pursed as she pulled two balls of yarn out of her bag. “Now can I show you that crochet thing I learned? It’s really easy, but it looks so good!”

He laughed and pointed to the couch. “Okay, you can set up there. I don’t hardly have any craft supplies here, since I haven’t had time for anything after I finished those pillows, but I’m happy to learn.”

“Well I brought an extra ball of yarn and another hook!” 

She smiled again, and for a fleeting moment, he felt grateful for the oncoming storm. He hadn’t seen her smile in-person in nearly two months, and the last time he had met, it had only been to swing by her bakery and buy something.

“I look forward to it,” he said. “Now, what kind of bread did you bring?”

\----------------------------------------------

Three hours later, they had already finished two romantic comedies and were each halfway through crocheting a scarf. Orihime picked out another movie to stream, and they settled back into their respective positions on the couch as the storm outside picked up. They had settled in a comfortable two feet away from each other, far enough apart to be proper without feeling unfriendly.

Uryuu squinted at his crocheting and leaned over to show it to her. “Did I miss something here?” he murmured.

She leaned in to take a closer look, and he caught a whiff of fruity shampoo. “No, that looks right! Your loops are just a little small, I think,” she said.

“Right. Thanks.”

She stretched and set her own crochet down to reach for her phone. “I promised Tatsuki I would text when I arrived safe, and I forgot,” she murmured.

He watched her as she typed out a message. “You told her you were coming here?”

“Yeah.” There was a hint of stress in her voice, and she glanced up at him before turning back to her message.

He decided to drop it. Whatever she said to Tatsuki wasn’t his business. He just hoped he didn’t get any threatening messages in the middle of the night.

She stretched and set her crochet aside. “My hands are hurting a little,” she said as she grabbed one of his pillows and set it on her lap. “Too much work today! I can’t crochet anymore!”

“Make yourself comfortable,” he replied.

She leaned over to look at his crochet again. “You’re almost as fast as I am already. You really are a genius.”

“You’re a good teacher.”

“No way!”

He smiled, and her eyes widened, her brown irises glowing gray in the light from the TV. “Give yourself some credit,” he murmured. “Crochet is a totally different process than embroidery or sewing, after all. I couldn’t pick this up so fast on my own, especially after a semester of having no time to craft.”

She kept looking up at him for a few seconds before withdrawing, smiling to herself. “I mean--”

They both flinched as Orihime’s phone made a loud chiming sound, followed by Uryuu’s barely a second later. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he fumbled with his phone and read the message. “An emergency alert?” he mumbled. “Special hazard area evacuation advisory. Not even mandatory.”

“Oh, this doesn’t even apply to us, does it?” she said, laughing nervously.

“They send out too many of those damn alerts.” He set his phone back on the table and leaned his head back. “We’re nowhere near a river or any kind of landslide hazard area; we’re fine here.”

“That’s good!”

“I wouldn’t have let you come here if we weren’t,” he added.

She smiled. “Well, then you could’ve crashed at my place!”

“But your place had a problem the landlord was fixing, right?” he said, tilting his head. “What happened, anyway?”

“Oh--” She stopped and shook her head. “I mean, it wasn’t a dangerous problem! Just would’ve been really hard to sleep, ‘cause the window was noisy!”

“That’s fair.” He thought he sensed hesitation in her answer, but decided to ignore it as he turned back to his crochet. “Well, you’re welcome here anytime,” he added.

He could sense her gaze on him, but he pretended to be preoccupied counting loops and stitches. She resumed her previous position, clutching the pillow to her chest and resting her chin on it as she watched the movie.

Thirty quiet minutes later, he felt something brush his upper arm, and he caught a whiff of fruity shampoo again. He lowered his crochet and turned his head as much as he dared to look down at her. She had leaned against him, eyes closed and mouth-half open as she rested her chin on the pillow.

Judging by her level breathing, she was definitely asleep, he thought as he watched her a moment longer. The sound of the movie was mostly drowning out the sound of the wind outside, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the worst of the storm picked up.

He stayed still as long as he dared, letting the drone of whatever movie she had picked out continue at its usual pace. She didn’t move, even as the movie ended and the end credits rolled with some bubblegum-pop anthem he vaguely recognized.

This was the closest they had ever been, and possibly the closest they ever would be, he thought as the light illuminating her vibrant orange hair shifted. He tore his eyes away and shut off the TV. He had to move eventually. He might as well get it over with.

He wanted to fold out the couch and give her more room, but he thought that would require waking her up fully. Instead, he set out a pillow on his other side and said: “Inoue-san, you can go to sleep.”

She sat up with a jolt, still clutching one pillow to her chest. “Huh?”

“You’re really tired,” he said, standing and tidying up his crochet. “Just lay down, okay? You had a longer day than I did.”

She squinted at him blearily before falling sideways onto the couch. “Thanks, Ishida-kun,” she murmured. “Sorry I’m not more of a party animal.”

He bit his lip to keep from laughing too hard. “I’m not really a party person anyway.”

“You know what I mean… I figured we could stay up late talking and stuff.”

“We’ll have time to catch up more in the morning.” He switched off the light and went to the bathroom to change into a t-shirt and thin sweatpants. When he came back out, the wind outside was audible, but Orihime’s breathing had fallen level again. She had pulled her hair out of its bun, letting it fall over her shoulders and chest.

He set a blanket on the table in front of her and headed up to his loft. Hopefully they would both sleep soundly for at least a few hours before the worst of the storm hit.

When he reached his bunk, he watched her for a moment longer before mentally scolding himself and taking off his glasses. She was fine. She didn’t need him watching over her.


	2. Chapter 2

A sharp clang like the sound of steel striking steel reached Uryu’s ears. He jerked upright, looked around, and called: “‘Hime?”

He heard a mumbled response from below as he reached for his glasses, and he corrected himself: “Inoue-san?”

“Something outside,” Orihime replied, her voice soft and distant.

His heart lurched into his throat as he swung his legs out of the loft, climbed down the first three steps, and then leapt the rest of the way to the floor. “It’s probably just the storm, but still,” he said as he unlocked the balcony door.

The wind and rain caught him full in the face, but he looked down and saw the cause of the noise. A piece of thin metal larger than his head had landed on his balcony, wedging itself against the inside of the balcony wall.

He carefully picked it up and brought it inside. When the door was locked again, he examined it, but couldn’t determine its source in the dim light seeping in from outside. He sighed and walked over to set it on top of the refrigerator. “It’s nothing,” he said, as he fumbled in the near-darkness. “Sorry about that. Go back to sleep.”

“No, it… I’m fine. I was already awake,” she mumbled.

He turned around, wiped his glasses on his shirt, and squinted in the darkness. She was clutching the pillow to her chest again, but this time, he could see her fingers bent sharply, digging into the fabric as if desperate not to lose it. He stepped closer and searched her expression. “The wind picked up, huh?” he said.

She turned her head down into the pillow. He saw her shoulders tighten and her fingers twitch, and he realized something was terribly wrong.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

She didn’t reply, and he sat down next to her on the couch, leaving even more distance than usual between them. 

“I lied about why I came over.” Her fingers looked like they might tear holes in the pillow’s fabric. “My apartment is fine. The real reason is that I can’t deal with the sound of the wind.”

He wanted to turn on the lights so he could see her face. Her long hair was casting shadows over most of her body, making her look small and tense. Her knees had clenched together and bent awkwardly, hiding her feet in the shadows beneath the couch. 

"It's not usually a problem, but the last time there was a typhoon... I couldn't stop thinking about Hollows." She paused and took a shuddering breath. "It sounded like them, with the way the wind whips around that apartment and over the roof. And since that’s the apartment my brother was in, it just…”

She trailed off, and he nodded. He didn’t need her to explain.

"You heard from Kurosaki-kun about what happened with my brother becoming a Hollow, right? It’s weird - I always dealt with the Soul Reapers and the Arrancar just fine, but it’s different sometimes if it’s the idea of a Hollow lurking outside.” Her breath hitched, and her arms tightened again. “It’s embarrassing, but even though you’re here, I can’t...”

“It’s not just you, Orihime. I’ve been.... I haven’t slept great, lately, either.” He turned words over in his mind, surveying them, trying to string them together in a way that would convey the realities that had danced before his eyes on and off for the past 11 months. “Really, it’s probably all of us, after everything that happened in the Soul Society.”

She was silent for several seconds, and when she turned her face toward him, there were just as many tears as before. “Is it, though?” She tilted her head down. “You and Ichigo look fine. Chad never said a word, either.”

He shrugged as he grasped for words again. “I mean, I guess it’s normal to not want to relive the past out loud. So we just do it silently, until we just can’t be silent anymore.”

She pulled her face out of the pillow and looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with hints of blue and red from the tiny lights from the electronics around the room. “It’s been almost a year since the last time we had to fight anything,” she mumbled, wiping her eyes. “Shouldn’t I be okay by now? Shouldn’t I just be able to reverse time or repair my brain or something? Because I want to try, but…”

His heart felt like it would collapse in on itself as he reached for her, stopping just short of touching the hands that gripped the pillow. She choked out a sob and raised her face just enough to say: “I would have to erase the memory or something, right? I have no idea what to do!”

“You shouldn’t…” He stopped and lowered his hand. Who the hell was he to tell her what to do, anyway?

But he knew there had to be a better way to let her mind heal. As the wind picked up again outside, he inched closer, holding one arm out weakly and wondering if there was anything he could do while she was in this state.

She glanced up enough to see his hand, and he stopped and waited. 

He wanted to be healed of it all, too, and he wondered if she was the key to that. He knew that might never happen.

Here he was, though, conflating his own selfish desires with her need for comfort. He sat perfectly still, afraid to break the spell and make things worse if he reached for her.

“I’m fine,” she whispered as she took his hand, clutching it close to the pillow.

Outside, the wind howled louder. For a moment, he could hear strange, distant screams, too, and his heart lurched into his throat.

He had to remind himself that if he couldn’t sense anything, there was nothing there. _It wasn’t there._

Her grip tightened briefly before relaxing, and for a fleeting instant, her fingers stroked his as if comforting him. “Sorry. I was fine until I started talking about it.” She still wouldn’t look up at him. “That made it worse at first, but I feel a little better now.”

“That’s good,” he said. “And I guess I should’ve turned the air conditioning higher to drown out the wind earlier, so that’s my fault. I’ll do that right now--”

“It would’ve gotten really cold by the couch, though, and I don’t think it would’ve been enough to drown it out anyway. It was definitely loud earlier. Didn’t you hear it?”

Her voice had gone cold. It only took a moment for him to realize why he hadn’t heard it: he had been embroiled in another dream with the walls of the Soul Society collapsing around him like sand, the sounds of battle surging around him and drowning out all of the outside world. Distant fragments of conversation between himself and Yhwach had played out, with phrases cut and faded by time and wishes and regrets. Even the sound of the wind had been reduced to background noise in the midst of all that.

So he hadn’t thought about it until she mentioned it. “I think I heard it in my dreams, but I was still asleep,” he murmured.

She took her hand away to wipe her eyes, and the lack of contact left him uncertain of what to do next. “Sorry,” she mumbled, letting go of the pillow.

“Don’t apologize.” He leaned across the coffee table and fumbled for the box of tissues that had ended up pushed to the other side during their crafting. “Come on. I’ll get you a second pillow that’ll cover your ears better, and I can lower the back of the couch so you have more room to sleep.”

She took a tissue from him and dabbed her eyes and nose. He wished he could see her face more clearly. There was no telling if she was really alright, or if she had just calmed down enough to act as if nothing was wrong. “Sorry. I’ll wash your pillow covers tomorrow,” she said.

“It’s fine. I promise you, it’s fine.” His voice had gone tight and pleading, and she paused with the tissue a few inches away from her face. He busied himself with lowering the back of the couch and grabbing his pillow from the top bunk. “Is this too firm? It should be large enough to cover your head a bit more than the other couch pillow,” he said as he handed it to her.

The wind groaned outside. “I’ll be fine,” she said, waving a hand. “I’ll just wash my face and be right back.”

She hobbled away, tissue still clutched in her hand. When the bathroom door had closed, he sighed and stared up at the ceiling, cursing the storm outside. Though it had brought her here to him, it also had brought fresh misery upon her, and he couldn’t count his blessings at all.

He looked down at his hand, which was still warm. When she emerged from the bathroom, the light illuminated her face for a split second, revealing rose-tinted cheeks and eyes still wet with tears. She approached the couch and looked up at him for a moment, her expression completely hidden in the darkness.

He wasn’t sure what she was expecting, so he filled the silence with: “Sorry I don’t have earplugs or anything. I hope you can get some sleep.”

Her eyes widened enough to catch the faint light again. “You too,” she murmured.

“I’m gonna read for a bit, actually.” He went to the closet and rummaged around to pull out a book. “I already got the syllabus for one of my next classes--”

“You should sleep!” She crossed her arms, and between the pose and her tone, he knew she was serious.

“I’ll go to bed in a little bit, okay? I’ll just keep the light on above the stove and sit by that, since that one’s nice and dim compared to the one in my loft.”

He pulled a thin floor pillow over to the kitchenette, set it in the corner against the cupboards, and flipped on the tiny light in the ceiling. “You can read over here, too,” she whispered.

He turned to look at her, and he could finally see her face properly. Her eyes were tired and half-lidded, their edges cast gray by the shadows of the room. Even so, her pose was resolute, arms crossed stiffly as she looked at him with pursed lips.

The wind left his chest for a moment. “I'll be quieter over here. I’ll go back to bed soon, I promise.”

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was staying up. Guilt, anxiety, protectiveness - God forbid, _longing_ \- but whatever it was, he hoped she couldn’t see it in his face.

It was too soon for that. _Still_ too soon.

She tilted her head ever so slightly before sitting down on the couch and pulling the blanket over her. “Okay,” she murmured, grabbing his pillow and putting it over her ear. “Good night. Sleep tight.”

After a few fitful turns, she settled into a position that faced her away from him and the light. He watched until her breathing fell into a rhythm, then tried to focus on his textbook. He had already been warned that organic chemistry would be a pain in the ass, and he knew that if he didn’t put the work in, he would fall behind and be forced to drop the program. Medical universities were relentless, and even his father had struggled at times.

As he thumbed through the pages and tried to wrap his head around the concepts, though, he found his mind wandering to her, _her_ talent, _her_ strength, the fact that she was _just so good_ that she would never need to know all this. He could team up with her and save people, if she would let him - if he could at least get strong and smart enough to move at the same pace as her.

Being a Quincy didn’t feel good enough, when compared to her radiant power and pure, honest strength of heart.

The wind picked up again, and she rolled over, eyes opening halfway. It had only been about thirty minutes, and she mumbled: “Are you still reading?”

He nodded and waved. “I’m still here.”

When she smiled, he felt heat rise to his face. Maybe being himself was good enough, if he could make her smile like this.

He rested his head against the wall next to him as he tried to piece his thoughts together. There was no point in pining over her unless he had a plan to deal with how he felt.


	3. Chapter 3

The ghosts of the Sternritters had been dancing before his eyes for what felt like hours, their weapons firing volley after volley across the ruins of the Soul Society. He could see Ichigo’s bloodstained face, Chad faltering, Orihime covered in dust and thin scratches and falling against the ruins as someone followed behind her and--

There was a rush of wind as he turned with Heilig Bogen armed and ready. His vision blurred, and he blinked away the faint daylight that suddenly burned into his eyes.

“Ishida-kun?”

Orihime’s whisper was breathless and strained. He squinted up at her and saw her standing by the window, the curtains parted slightly as she looked outside. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing to his right side.

He looked down and saw a familiar blue glow spreading out from his fist in a sweeping arc. He had activated Heilig Bogen, and though he hadn’t aimed it anywhere in particular, he felt panic rise in his throat as he extinguished his power. “Sorry,” he mumbled, waving his other hand at her.

She pulled the curtain shut. “Sorry. I wanted to check on things outside. I woke you, didn’t I?”

“It’s nothing.”

Even as he blinked the last traces of sleep from his eyes, he could see her eyebrows furrow, drawing shadows over her eyes. “So you were really asleep right there?”

His textbook had slipped between his legs. “I guess I did. Not sure how long I was out for, though.”

“You shouldn’t have slept there! It looks painful!”

“I know, I know.” He tried to stand, but a sharp pain shot through his side. “Ow.”

She tiptoed toward him, looking uncertain. “Need a hand?”

“I’m fine.” He moved again, and his hips ached. “Ow.”

She held out a hand, and he gently took it, placing his other hand against the wall for support. He rose to his feet, his back groaning as it shook off the uncomfortable position. He made a mental note to ever lean against a wall while that tired ever again.

As he let go of Orihime’s hand, though, he felt hot, dizzying sparks float to his head, and dark spots twinkled before his eyes. He leaned against the wall, his head dipping slightly.

“Ishida-kun?!”

Something pressed into his upper arms, and when he looked down, a pair of bright brown eyes stared up at him. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, straightening up. “Sorry. Low blood pressure got me…”

He trailed off as Orihime pulled her hands away, looking down at the floor. It was only then that he realized that she must have just grabbed his arms in an attempt to stop him from falling. Not that it would have worked well, with how much taller he was than her.

He could only stare at her for a few seconds as even more heat rushed to his head. “You should eat something!” she said, pointing at the couch. “Sit down while I make something!”

He fought the urge to grimace. “No, I’m fine--”

“No you’re not!”

“This always happens, I promise,” he said as he forced a smile.

“I brought lots of bread, so let’s start with some toast!” She shuffled a few steps over to the kitchenette and rummaged around in her paper bag. “I have this fancy bread with cinnamon swirls in it! I like to add a little pepper and butter to it!”

He leaned against the wall and watched her for a moment, still unsure of what had just transpired. She hadn’t quite thrown her arms around him, but she hadn’t hesitated to draw very, _very_ near to him either.

It would be stupid to read too much into it, though, he reminded himself. She was the kindest person he knew.

He stepped over to the kitchenette and pulled a toaster and a jar of jam out of the cupboard. “Oh, jam’s a good idea,” she said, taking them from him. “Now go sit down!”

“I’m fine,” he said, waving her away as he pulled out a butter knife.

“What’s that for? A spoon is better for scooping jam! You just end up dropping it if you try to use a knife!”

“Oh… that’s true, isn’t it.”

She smiled as he put the knife back and grabbed a spoon. When the first slices of bread finished toasting, she set them on a plate and handed it to him with a no-nonsense, “you go first or _else_ ” look on her face, and he relented and began spreading his jam on them with the back of the spoon.

A question had floated to the front of his mind, but he held off on asking until a full minute of silence had elapsed between them. “Can I ask... why you came here instead of going to Ichigo’s?” he murmured. “I don’t mind at all, and it’s definitely nice to see you. It was just unexpected.”

Her lips tightened into a line as she watched the toaster. “It just... didn’t feel right, you know?” She shrugged, but there was a touch of nervous laughter in her voice. “He’s a really great person! He’s strong and cool and caring and amazing and he’s a wonderful friend. The more I think about it, though, the more I...”

He froze, fixating on every drop of nuance in her words. “There’s someone else I want to lean on in times like this. Someone who moves at the same pace as me,” she finished.

He wanted her to just say what she meant, but instead she busied herself with pulling the toast out of the toaster. A moment later, he handed the jam spoon to her and directed his attention to the pot he needed to fill with hot water for tea.

This was worse than walking on eggshells. He felt like if he stepped in the wrong spot, the whole thing would collapse, sending his dreams tumbling out of the sky.

“You can always lean on me, you know," he said as he put the pot on the stove.

“I know.” She didn't look up as she scooped out jam. “You’ve been here this whole time.”

 _You’ve been here this whole time._ The words weighed on him, pressing themselves into his skin. 

“Hey... you called me Orihime last night, didn’t you?” she asked.

He waited a beat. “Yeah.”

They were waltzing around it. He glanced down at her, but she kept her gaze on the toast, even though she had already finished spreading the jam and was only pushing it around in circles.

He let his left hand dance over her right, gently pressing downward. Her eyes widened, and she set the spoon down on the edge of the plate with a wet _clink_ that broke the silence. She stared down at his hand and turned hers, moving two of her fingers to brush his. “Ishida...”

He hesitated, and she turned to look up at him, brown eyes still wide. “Uryu,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

Her cheeks had turned pink, but the eyes above them were still the same: resolute and kind, glimmering with hope and power. 

He had gone far enough that there was no turning back. He tilted his head lower, and she closed her eyes, her whole body still.

He moved in quickly, as if she might change her mind and move. Their lips connected in a haze of soft heat, and he had to restrain himself from pushing deeper.

The tension between their lips began to fade after just a second, and he pulled back, taking his hand out of hers at the same time. She opened her eyes, seeming puzzled, and he turned to stare down at the counter.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I should've..."

He trailed off. He was always bad at talking. He could never explain how he felt, no matter how good he was at explaining math and science and English and all the things he could read in books. As long as he could read it, he could regurgitate it, but there was no reading himself or her emotions; he just acted and reacted, and now that inability to communicate was about to cost him. She had tried to communicate, in her own way, and there was a very high chance he had just read her wrong.

She tugged at the hem of his shirtsleeve. When he turned to look at her, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him, letting her lips linger for a few seconds before pulling away.

The second kiss was sweeter than the first. He stared down at her, meeting her determined gaze as relief flooded through him. "I got it right," he mumbled.

She turned redder and buried her face into his shoulder, her fingers fumbling at his arms as if unsure of where to grasp. "I should be the one saying that," she mumbled into his shirt. "It was hard to find time to tell you."

"That's my fault." He pressed his face into her hair. "I’m sorry I was so busy after graduation.”

“You wouldn’t be _you_ if you weren’t working hard.”

He let his hand run over her hair; he had wanted to touch it for so long, but he had never even come close. She turned her head and rested her forehead against his neck, letting her breath seep through his shirt and graze his collarbone.

He felt dizzy again, and he held her tighter as he took a step sideways. Her grip on his shirt tightened as he steadied himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze, “I guess that’s the--”

She pulled away, grabbed her toast off the counter, and shoved it in his mouth. “Eat something!”

He tried to mumble something around the toast, but she glared at him, and he reluctantly bit down and chewed. Since she hadn’t had time to put pepper and butter on it yet, it tasted alright.

“Now eat the rest of yours!” she said, jabbing a finger at his plate. “We can talk about everything else later!”

He obeyed. They ate their toast and drank their tea in silence, with only the faint sound of the wind still rushing against the window. It was weird, Uryu thought, how it felt like a wall had been torn down between them, and yet they were still so distant.

There was a lot they hadn’t talked about, he realized as he tidied up and washed their plates. As soon as he put them away, he looked down at Orihime, who hesitated only for an instant before throwing her arms around him again.

Once again, her face pressed close to his neck, and he felt dizzy for an instant before he gently wrapped his arms around her waist. All that bold, beautiful kindness was overwhelming, after being so far from her for so long. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?” she mumbled. 

“I’m alright, though,” he replied. More than alright, he thought. The best he’d ever been.

“That was your pillow, though, wasn’t it? The one you gave me in the middle of the night?”

“I -- yeah, because it probably lays on your head better and blocks sound better than those cheap couch pillows--”

“It smelled like you.”

His heart pounded, and a second later, she pulled her head back and met his gaze. “Not in a bad way, I mean--”

“Yeah, I know--”

“Like your shampoo or something!”

He nodded, almost frantically, and her face turned bright red. “I-I think we both need a nap!” she said, stepping back and waving at the couch. “Maybe we can just share the pillow instead!”

For a moment, he only watched her as she rushed over to the couch, her fiery hair shimmying in the early morning light filtering through the curtains. He replayed the touch of her arms around his neck, the feeling of her breath on his chest, and the starstruck look in her eyes, burning them into his memory and hoping he would remember them when he woke up from this dream.

It _definitely_ was a dream.

She fidgeted with the pillows and blanket before looking back at him. “I’m not in the way, am I?” she murmured. “If you’re trying to get your day started, then…”

“Of course you’re not.” He stepped closer to the couch. “How long until you have to leave for work?”

“Um…” She looked at her phone. “Jeez, it’s only 7:30? At least a few hours.”

“Then yeah, we should try to sleep a little more.”

She watched him walk closer, and he averted his gaze, unsure of how to proceed. “Here!” she said, sitting on the couch and scooting to the far side. “There’s definitely room for both of us!”

She pulled the blanket halfway over herself and kept watching him. There was still a flush in her cheeks, and he had to reflect on how odd it was that he was being invited to take a nap in his own home like this.

But he smiled, sat down, and stretched out. The space wasn’t very wide at all, and when he had settled in, he was dangerously close to her again. Their bodies faced each other, not touching anywhere - _and they wouldn't,_ he reminded himself.

He fumbled with his glasses and set them on the table behind him before rolling back into place. She threw half of the blanket over him before looking up at him and grinning nervously. “You look a little different without your glasses, I guess,” she murmured.

He sighed and cupped her chin in his hand. “Yeah, makes it a little harder to do this accurately,” he said before tilting his head closer to kiss her.

This time, when their lips parted again, they stayed close enough to let their breath fall on each other. He peeked his eyes open and saw she was watching him, her eyes dark and beautiful despite being blurry to him.

He wondered if there was any chance in hell of them falling asleep like this. He would at least make the effort, though, especially with how tired they both were. Maybe she would even sleep better with him right there.

Outside, though, the wind had died down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! This is unbeta'd and I tried to finish/proofread it in the middle of poll results on Twitter (URYU NATIONNNNNNN) so I'll give it another look another time, but feel free to leave a comment yelling at me if there are any really bad typos.


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